Perfect Discord
by Mickat24
Summary: An emotional bond is created between Snape and Mona, against both their wills, and to neither of their knowledges. Mona must find Snape (though she doesn't know it's him), to make the antidote work.


Perfect Discord

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is master. I am but a minion. I only play with what is hers, and gain nothing but my own amusement. So please don't sue!

Author's Note: Wow, it's cool to be an author…J This is the very first chapter of my very first fanfic. I have no idea how this will come out, and though I have a plot outline, it is somewhat vague, and so the content of each chapter, and their length, is subject to my whim and fancy. And that's of course assuming I make it past the first chapter at all. Warning: I am prone to frequent bouts of procrastination. Wish me luck! And now, without further ado…

Chapter 1: A Bright Sunshiny Day

Mona opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched. She rubbed her eyes, and as her vision cleared, she blinked sleepily in surprise, and slight consternation. This was not right. Her ceiling should be white. So why was it a pale orange, that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight that washed over it? 

Sunlight? The bedroom in her tiny basement flat was not graced with a window!

A low growl emanating from the base of her throat, Mona closed her eyes and rolled over. She hated mornings. They were so disconcerting. It was always as if she had relinquished control of herself for the few hours that she slept, and then had to wrestle some unknown being to regain control of her mind in the morning. It was frustrating as hell.

Sighing, she sat up and looked around, and immediately remembered where she was: Hogwarts. Her new home. With quarters considerably larger than her old flat, which she'd happily given up last week. Mona smiled, somewhat sourly, as she spotted the boxes and trunks full of her possessions lying half emptied, and scattered across her room. She got out of bed, and gingerly picked her way through the upheaval and into the bathroom. Which made her smile again, genuinely this time. The large bathroom was decorated in black and  white, with accents of stainless steel here and there, and had, as its centerpiece, a large black marble bathtub. Mona loved baths, a fact that seemed to surprise most people who knew her. Dumbledore, in his uncanny wisdom, had of course known this, as well as her need of space for her ever-increasing personal library, and her love of privacy. Her spacious chambers were situated on the second floor of the much overlooked east wing of the castle, with a lovely view of the rolling fields and lawns surrounding Hogwarts, and the Forbidden Forest beyond them. 

Mona turned on the water, tapping her wand against the spout to adjust the water to her preferred temperature. Hot. Hot enough to nearly scald her skin when she would first step in, but giving her a sense of triumph, over herself, over nature, as she would slip in without flinching. Turning on more taps, the air filled with steam and the smell of cinnamon and ginger. Mona quickly threw off her pyjamas, and slipped into the water, ignoring the stinging of her skin as it came into contact with the near-boiling water. She sighed, and closed her eyes. 

~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~

Mona eyed the nearly empty Great Hall warily as she stepped through its doors. It was summer, so only the teachers would be present, and only those who had not gone elsewhere for the duration. Meal times were more relaxed during this season, so it was rare that more than five or six professors were present for a meal at once. This morning, a bright, warm day in early July, there were only three people present at breakfast, aside from Mona. All three looked up as she entered, and studied her carefully. Only Dumbledore did not look back down at his meal.

 "Good morning, Mona!" he called out to her merrily. "Lovely morning! Won't you come eat with us?"

Mona scowled inwardly at the overly-saccharine greeting too early in the morning, but smiled outwardly, remembering her manners, and that she owed this man her job.

"Thank-you, I will," she called back, declining comment on the morning.

As she approached the head table, Mona inspected the other two professors seated at the table, both of whom were studiously ignoring her. Sprout sported bright pink robes this morning (_Ugh_, thought Mona, _that's really not her color_), and was eating a bowl of what looked like a mixture of random weeds plucked from her greenhouse, a suspicious and slightly disapproving look on her face. Snape, sporting his customary black (Mona wondered if he was in prolonged mourning for someone, then, remembering her introduction to the staff at last night's meeting, almost sniggered, retorting that it may be his personality), was eating a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, with a large mug of what undoubtedly must have been bitter black coffee. The scowl on his face indicated that he was not enjoying his meal. Or his life. 

Mona looked again toward Dumbledore, who was still watching her, calmly eating his bowl of cereal. Lucky Charms, she noted, as she approached the table. How typical. He smiled, and beckoned her toward the empty seat on his right, between himself and Snape. Snape's scowl deepened. Mona scowled back, but Snape continued to concentrate on his food, and paid her no heed. 

"Good morning, Severus!" she said, in a very fake, lilting voice, as she sat down. "Would you pass the bacon, please?"

Snape looked up at her, briefly startled, but soon resumed his seemingly ever-present glare. Mona glared back, and fire from his black eyes clashed with the ice from her blue ones, with an almost palpable crackle. He passed her the bacon, and nodded. 

"Miss Ayde," he drawled, venom dripping from the words. Mona wondered how he had managed to make her name sound like a death threat.

_Hmmm, I guess someone wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position pretty badly then, eh? _Mona thought, and cackled theatrically in her head. _Well, it's funny then, that I'd have preferred potions myself…_

"Oh, no, call me Mona, please!" she replied airily, grinning a little too wide. 

"If I were to call you by a more informal name, _Miss Ayde_," Snape shot back, clearly indicating what he thought of the idea, "I would call you by your given name; Desdemona. Your pet name is so… infantile."

He clearly thought the same of her.

Mona, however, smiled slightly at having elicited so long a speech from him. The Potions Master was notorious for being curt, rude, and generally as mean as humanly possible. 

"That's fine," she said mildly, winning her another scowl. 

"Ahem," said Dumbledore, breaking the tension, "How was your first night at Hogwarts, Mona?"

"Very comfortable, thank-you Headmaster," Mona replied, spreading butter on a slice of whole-wheat toast. 

"And your quarters?"

"Wonderful," Mona said genuinely, giving Dumbledore and appreciative look. Though her rooms were not yet in the state she'd have liked, Mona had managed to cast a few tidying spells before going to breakfast, so that at least her possessions were in neat piles, if not yet in their proper places. 

After a somewhat uncomfortable period of silence, Dumbledore inquired after Sprout's prized mandrakes. A troubled look crossed the herbology professor's face.

"They are not doing so well as I'd have liked, Albus," she answered sadly. "I believe they've been infected with some sort of invisible fungus or insect, and they obstinately refuse to respond to any and every potion Severus can make for me."

Dumbledore shook his head in sympathy.

"I'm sure Severus will come up with something to help you, sooner or later," he said cheerfully.

Mona lifted her head from her food, listening to Sprout describe the particular symptoms of the infection. Dumbledore had no real helpful suggestions.

"Perhaps it's the new strain of _caenorhabditis elegans_?" Mona suggested softly. "Have you read about it?" (A/N Hehe. Ten points to anyone who knows what that is. Can you guess my major?)

Sprout looked at Mona, surprised, and then considered her words. 

"Yes, perhaps you're right," she said slowly, and rather disbelievingly.

Mona sighed. Why was it that no one ever believed her capable of anything worthwhile? Was it because she was blonde? 

"There's a particularly good article about it in last November's issue of Healing. I thought it was interesting, they don't usually concern themselves with plants," she commented, eliciting another strange glance from Sprout. 

"Thank-you," Sprout said curtly, and stood to leave the table.

Mona sighed again, and shook her head. After six years of university and doing research for the Ministry, she would have liked to be taken more seriously. Was it because she had been in Slytherin? Or because she was young (not terribly young, at 28, she told herself)?

Or perhaps it was because she was a former Death Eater. Sort of.


End file.
